Against All Odds
by DubzNChloe
Summary: USUK, Gakuen and human AU. Alfred is the popular quarterback, and Arthur is the band geek. And, it seems that the universe is out to get their relationship. Rated T for slightly suggestive themes and bad language. Collab with Dubstepnation. All rights go to Hidekaz Himuraya.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey! Okay, if I messed anything up, my bad. Football is a rather... foreign concept to me. Any and all information came from my computer programmer father and Wikipedia, so I'm sorry if it's wrong. Also, we needed some football players and Cuba and Australia don't have human names so I googled the top boy names in Cuba and Australia, which were, respectfully, Abelardo and Ackley. Sorry if I got anything wrong ;-; Enjoy~! This is going to be a multi-chapter story, by the way. Thanks lovelies~! -Chloe_

* * *

Alfred nervously waited for the whistle to blow. It was halftime of the most important game of the season, the one that would determine whether they went to the championships or not. The team that they were playing was good, very, very good. They were currently tied, twenty-four on both sides. He had his hands extended, ready to catch the ball from their center, Antonio. The school band began to play the fight song, something to excite the crowd, whip them into a frenzy.

Arthur began to play on his saxophone, pressing the keys and blowing, playing the song that was as familiar to him as a book he had read a hundred times. After all, he had been in band since his freshman year, and, nearly four years later, the band still played the same song at every game. He, however, only had eyes for one player on the football team, and that would be Alfred F. Jones, the star quarterback. He had never lost them a game, and he was one of the most sought after boys in the whole school. Arthur thought it was disgusting how girls threw themselves at him, batting their eyelashes and-

"KIRKLAND!" yelled the band teacher. Oh. He had come in late and was throwing the whole band off. He focused on the music, chastising himself.

Alfred blinked as the shrill whistle broke through his thoughts. Suddenly the ball was in his hands and Mathias, their right guard, was keeping him from being tackled. Alfred whipped around, tossing the ball to their running back, Ludwig, who barreled through the other team's defensive line and scored a touchdown.

Six points for their team. The score was thirty to twenty-four, in their favor.

Now, it was time for the try. Their kicker, Gilbert, kicked the ball held by their punter, the Australian student, Ackley. The ball flew through the air, zooming in between the uprights and earning them an extra point.

The score was now thirty-one to twenty-four, Alfred's team still in the lead.

It was time for another play. Everyone resumed their positions again, Antonio passing the ball to Alfred as the whistle blew. Alfred glanced up at their tight end, Vash, sending the ball flying in a tight spiral towards him.

Oh, he could already see that was a mistake. Vash had no one covering him and was tackled to the ground as he caught the ball, resulting in a fumble. The other team grabbed the ball, and, despite Berwald and Ivan's best efforts, brought it all the way to their end zone, scoring six points, and, also scoring an extra point on their try.

The band had to start playing again at that point, getting the crowd excited again. The whole time, Arthur had been getting very into the game, although it wasn't nearly as violent as rugby. He had been bothering several of the people around him, gesturing wildly at the game. His fellow band members were used to this, as it happened _every_ game.

It seemed that the opposing team matched them in every way; the score continued to even out consistently, and it was at forty-eight to forty-eight. Finally, before the last play, the coach called a huddle.

"Listen, we need to do something that'll surprise them. Jones. You. Run out there with the ball. Make us a touchdown." said the coach gravely.

All eyes went to America as his eyebrows raised. "C- coach, I'll get slaughtered!" he exclaimed.

"No." responded the coach, clapping a hand on Alfred's shoulder. "You won't. You're too good, kid. I have faith in you."

Alfred bit his lip nervously as everyone went back out onto the field, taking up their positions.

The whistle blew and all too soon, the ball was in his hands. He set off down the field as fast as he could, holding the ball close to him. Alfred was both shocked and not shocked at all when he went flying through the air, before slamming to the ground with someone on top of him, getting the wind knocked out of him. Then the ball was taken from his hands, and he was left scrambling to his feet, gasping for breath as the same guy who had knocked him down ran, deftly evading every single one of the players, even Abelardo, their Cuban defensive tackle, who had never let anyone by him in all the games they had ever played.

The player ran into the end zone, and then, the game was over, forty-eight to fifty-four.

"OH_ BLOODY FUCK_, HE CHEATED!" Arthur shouted before he could stop himself.

Unfortunately, the opposing _hadn't_ cheated.

Alfred could feel the disappointed eyes of the coach on him, as well as the accusatory glances of Abelardo and Ivan. The rest of his team members didn't appear to blame him but their dejection at the loss was just as bad.

They all headed to the locker room, where the coach gave them a talk about how, "this isn't the end of the world" and "it was one game. Next time we'll really show them!". As if that made Alfred feel any better.

The team began showering and getting dressed. Already, people like Antonio and Gilbert were already over it, laughing and joking because, to them, it was no big deal.

Alfred sighed, yanking on his jeans and pushing wet hair out of his eyes. Suddenly, Abelardo was right next to him.

"This is _your_ fault. You idiot." he snarled at Alfred, and Alfred was suddenly conscious of how very close the other was.

Alfred opened his mouth to snap back that he should've grabbed the guy but Abelardo interrupted him.

"Save it. You're not even worthy to be on this team. I could hit you right now!" he yelled, but suddenly Berwald was right there, gripping his arm.

"Tht wn't b'n'c'ssry."* he said, stoic face on as always.

Abelardo ripped his arm out of the Swedish guy's grip and glowered at Alfred before storming off.

Alfred sighed, pulling on his shirt and heading outside so he wouldn't have to hear anyone discuss what had just happened. He went out to the parking lot where the band kids lingered, because they had to pack up their instruments.

Alfred observed as Berwald and Tino reunited, Tino patting the former on his head and saying it was all right that they didn't win, they would do better next time.

He watched as Antonio went up to Lovino, hugging him tightly and planting a kiss on his cheek, much to the Italian's (faked) dismay.

He looked on as Feliciano threw himself onto Ludwig, giggling about how good he was.

He sighed. He had no one to console him over his failure, no one at all. Mattie was home sick and even then, his Canadian brother's hug probably still wouldn't help.

"Long night?" asked a British accent from behind him, causing him to jump.

He turned around swiftly, seeing a boy he knew fairly well. Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. First chair saxophonist in the school band. He had never talked to the boy in person, but he knew of him, and, in all honesty, he found the other to be quite handsome, with his blond hair and sparkly green eyes.

"You could say that." he agreed with a shaky smile.

And then, he didn't know what made him say it:

"Do you wanna go with me to McDonald's? My treat."

If Arthur Kirkland rejected him, he would break down in tears. He had had enough failure for one night.

He watched Arthur's expression of surprise until it melted into a smile. "Sure. Do you have a car?"

"Y- yeah." said Alfred, breaking into a grin, before leading the way.

They got in the car, Arthur in the passenger's seat and Alfred in the driver's side.

"So, you're in football. Do you play anything else?" asked Arthur, glancing over at Alfred.

"Baseball. Do you do anything besides play the sax?" responded Alfred, turning the corner and wincing at the painful reminder of football.

"I play the violin. I know it's not the same, really, but neither are football and rugby."

"Rugby? What's that?" asked Alfred, confused.

"What you call football. Although, it doesn't usually end with all the players in one piece." said Arthur with a smile.

"Oh..." said Alfred thoughtfully as they pulled into the parking lot. "Doesn't sound like it'd be fun if you ended up missing your left nut or something."

"Oh, it's actually quite fun. My brothers and I play it all the time. Once, Aiden broke Allisor's arm..." Arthur said, launching into a long-winded story about the various Kirkland rugby games, which continued even as they got out of the car and Alfred held the door for Arthur.

In truth, Alfred had stopped listening after a while, opting to stare at Arthur as though he was. He was watching the slight smile dance across the Brit's face and the way his eyes glittered, the way his pink lips moved as he detailed the various injuries of the Kirkland boys. He loved listening to the sound of Arthur's voice, the way he didn't pronounce the_ r_'s, and how he gestured with his hands to make a point.

"...and then we had to drive him to the hospital because his bone was poking out of his leg." Arthur concluded.

"Sounds intense." said Alfred with a smile.

"Oh, it is! That's why it's so exciting." Arthur stated.

"Uh huh. What do you want to eat?" asked Alfred.

"Anything will be fine." said Arthur.

"A hamburger it is!" laughed Alfred with a grin.

After they had ordered, paid, and were sitting down with their food in a booth, Alfred turned to Arthur and asked, "How many siblings do you have, anyway?"

"Four." came the Brit's response.

"Oh, I have one. A brother. His name is Matthew, he's in our grade. But you probably don't know him. He's really shy and quiet. And Canadian." said Alfred, taking a huge gulp of his soda.

"You mean the one who always sits in the back with Gilbert? I know him. Francis has pointed him out several times, talking about how they both have 'sexy hair', whatever the bloody hell that means, the stupid git." said Arthur, frowning as he spoke about Francis.

"Yeah, that's the one!" said Alfred excitedly.

They fell into a comfortable silence, which, unfortunately, gave Alfred a chance to think. He reflected on how badly he had screwed up the whole game and frowned.

"If you're thinking about the game, it wasn't so bad. You were only six points behind." Arthur said, as though he knew exactly what Alfred was thinking.

"No... That was the most important game. Our chance to win. And I messed the whole thing up... We almost won but I fucked it up." said Alfred, his tone sounding angry, but really, he was just humiliated. It was his first time losing a game, and it just so happened to be the most important one where everyone was counting on him. _Everyone_ had seen him mess up.

"Everyone messes up sometimes." said Arthur, reaching out and laying a hand on Alfred's arm.

Alfred felt his heart rate pick up as he glanced down at Arthur's hand. Why did just a touch to his arm have such an effect on him?

"Y- yeah, but I let everyone down." he said, looking down at the table.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that you tried." said Arthur, retracting his hand, frustrated at the boy's lack of self confidence.

"That's not enough! It didn't help me to win! I wouldn't be surprised if coach cut me from the team..."

"Keep that attitude and he might." snapped Arthur sternly.

Alfred's frown deepened and he sighed, propping his head up on one hand and staring out the window.

"Oh, it's not that bad. Your friends weren't upset, were they?"

Alfred shrugged, childishly pouting and refusing to look at Arthur.

"Oh, you..." said Arthur, reaching forward and turning Alfred by the chin to look at him.

Alfred felt his heartbeat increase tenfold, his cheeks flaming as he gulped, wondering what Arthur was doing.

"You did_ just fine_." said Arthur, leaning forward and lightly kissing him.

Alfred's heart skipped a beat before exploding with happiness. He eagerly pulled the other to him, running his tongue over his bottom lip to ask for entry, which Arthur granted immediately, allowing the American's tongue to rove his mouth, exploring.

Alfred snaked his hand up Arthur's shirt, before suddenly remembering...

... They were in the middle of a McDonald's.

He broke the kiss, panting slightly and looking into Arthur's eyes, sky blue meeting grass green.

"Oh my... People are staring." said Arthur, cheeks a dark pink color from both embarrassment and excitement.

"Let them." said Alfred, sliding out of the booth and gesturing for Arthur to do the same. He grabbed the other's hand, leading him out of the McDonald's and forward, towards the future that awaited them.

* * *

_I hope you liked~ this is a multi-chapter story, again. Please review... You can tell me if I COMPLETELY SUCK at describing football. Or if you liked it. Thanks~!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey guys, chapter two! I probably won't update regularly, so be prepared, but, I will update as often as possible! Let me know what you think, and, in case I didn't mention this, this is a collaboration with __Dubstepnation__. Thanks and enjoy~! This is kind of a short chapter ;-; sorry. Also, I read online that "America has 238 weaknesses, among these Dora the Explorer" so, yeah ^^' -Chloe_

* * *

"And so, that's why I hate Dora the Explorer." Alfred concluded as they pulled into a parking space in the school parking lot.

Arthur chuckled. Alfred was more like a big kid than an adult sometimes.

"I see." he laughed.

"Yeah!" Alfred agreed with a big grin, hopping out of the car. He slung both his and Arthur's backpacks over his shoulder, lacing his fingers with the Brit's and walking with him, oblivious to the stares they were getting.

Arthur supposed he wasn't surprised. Alfred was possibly the most popular person in the whole school, and suddenly he was holding hands with a random nobody.

He felt himself blush, and, glancing down at their hands, he said, "All this after only our first date?"

Alfred pouted a bit. "What's the problem? Do you want me to let go?"

"No, no, it's just... Come to think of it, we hardly even know each other." said Arthur thoughtfully.

"I know enough." said Alfred, stopping and turning to face Arthur. "I know that you're really good at playing the saxophone and kissing, and I know that when you get embarrassed you blush really hard, and that your accent is really nice, plus, you always say what's on your mind. I know that you hate Francis, but I'm not sure why. I know that you're really cute, and I like you a lot. And that's enough for me." finished Alfred with a smile.

"O- oh..." Arthur responded, his face the color of one of Antonio's tomatoes. He really wanted to return Alfred's sentiment, but he couldn't find the words, and he felt that, even if he did find the words, they would come out sounding fake and forced.

"Yep!" answered Alfred brightly, turning around and continuing to walk like he hadn't just made Arthur blush like a schoolgirl.

Arthur smiled and followed, being pulled by Alfred. He almost didn't care about all the hateful stares on him.

"What's your first period?" Alfred asked, either not noticing or ignoring all the eyes boring holes into them at the moment.

"Band."

"All righty." said Alfred, walking him there.

Arthur listened as Alfred kept up his constant stream of chatter, this particular monologue about an awesome movie he had seen, something called 'Captain America', as far as Arthur knew. He was just amazed that Alfred could talk at length about something that seemed slightly meaningless, although he thought this kind of adorable.

When they reached the band hall, Alfred handed him his bag, smiled, gave him a peck on the lips, and headed off to his first period.

Still smiling, Arthur turned and grabbed his saxophone, putting the parts together quickly. He was happy.

"You realize you could do better than a stupid jock, right?" Roderich said.

"He's an idiot, da-ze." Im Yong Soo agreed.

"You would be happier without him." Roderich said matter-of-factly.

"In all honesty, he just doesn't seem like he's good for you." said Eduard timidly.

"What... But... Shouldn't you lot be happy that I've finally found someone?" Arthur demanded.

"Aiyah, someone who is so immature he will play with you until he gets bored and then drop you, aru." said Yao.

"You should really look for someone else, da-ze."

"All of you wankers should get off my back!" Arthur exclaimed, angry now. "Maybe he's not perfect to you, but he's _not with you_. I didn't ask for your opinions and I certainly don't care! You're all twats, bloody hell!"

Before anyone could say anything back, the bell rang, and they had to start playing. However, Arthur could guess what their responses would've been, judging by the holier-than-thou expressions that they wore.

He sighed. This was going to be a long day.

His sour mood continued all the way to lunch, and he could feel himself glowering at innocent bystanders. He had even snapped at Kiku, when the Japanese boy attempted to point out where he had gone wrong in one of his equations.

"Arthur!" a familiar voice yelled excitedly, and before Arthur could even do anything he was being wrapped in a hug from Alfred.

"Oh, hello Alfred." he said, muffled by a letterman jacket.

"Hey! I... Are you okay?" he asked, leaning back and cocking his head to the side, confused by Arthur's extra-grumpy attitude.

"Idiots in band." Arthur responded with a scowl.

"Oh, well don't worry. They're not important." said Alfred, smiling brightly and giving the other a kiss on the forehead.

Arthur felt his cheeks flame again and did his best to suppress a giddy smile.

Alfred laughed. "You're so cute when you blush! Anyway, are you hungry?" he didn't wait for an answer, already tugging Arthur along to his car.

"I just want to get away from this." Arthur muttered.

"That can be arranged!" said Alfred, still grinning as they drove away in his car.

Arthur pressed his cheek to the glass, listening to Alfred's idle chatter about some band that had come from England called 'One Direction' and how, since they were of British origin, Arthur would absolutely love them.

Arthur sighed. Even if it was only for half an hour or so, he was glad to get away from all the judgment at school. Especially if he could be with Alfred while doing it.

* * *

_Hope you liked it~ Next chapter will be up ASAP._


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred walked into the locker room, grinning like an idiot. After lunch, he and Arthur had fifth, sixth, and seventh period together. Now it was eighth period, time for football.

He turned the corner to see the entire team standing there. It was completely silent, none of the usual sounds of laughter or talking. No one was looking at him except for Abelardo, who had a hateful smile on.

"So." said the Cuban.

"... Yeah...?" asked Alfred, confused.

"Arthur Kirkland. Really? Thought you would go for a cheerleader or something. Or, even someone who doesn't make us all look bad. We've got to maintain our image, you know."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why would you even like him? He's annoying. And you guys don't even go together. He's a nerd and you're our _star quarterback_." said Abelardo, taking the last two words and twisting them mockingly.

Alfred blinked. "What does it matter to you?" he was beginning to get annoyed.

"The point is, everyone's making fun of you. Don't you _care_? Do you know how stupid you look with some random guy on the sidelines cheering you on?"

"It's none of your business who I want cheering me on." Alfred snapped. _Now_ he was mad.

"Do you know how many girls would be willing to be your girlfriend? Don't you see the disgusted looks you get in the hall? Because it reflects badly on all of us. For God's sake, dump the stupid English dude and grow enough balls to ask out a girl."

That. Was. _It_.

"Do you think I _care_? I couldn't give any less of a shit what _you_ think of me, or anyone else for that matter? I'm happy, so get off my back." Alfred growled.

Abelardo blinked, then backed off.

Alfred was filled with anger at the fact that these people,_ his teammates_, had all come to tell him he was wrong for being in love.

"All of you listen up." Alfred snapped. "We're supposed to be a team. Do you know what it means to be a team? It means we need to work together. So all of you put aside your damn issues over _my boyfriend, _and get ready to win the next game we play."

With that, he changed rather more violently than necessary and stormed out onto the field.

Once everyone was out on the field, the coach gathered them all around.

"Okay, so, after the last game, it came to my attention that some of you... Aren't so good at getting up quickly when you've been tackled." said the coach with a quick but pointed glance at Alfred. "So here's what we're gonna do. Divide up into pairs and take turns tackling each other."

Alfred glanced around, but already, nearly everyone was paired up.

There was only one person left...

... Abelardo.

Alfred groaned under his breath. He did _not _like the sadistic grin on Abelardo's face.

"Let's just get this over with." Alfred grunted.

The whistle blew and before Alfred could blink there was two hundred and sixty five pounds of Cuban slamming into him, knocking him to the ground, and _man, _did it _hurt_.

"HOLY SHIT!" he yelled before he could stop himself.

"What's wrong, Alfred? You would think you would be used to getting slammed around, seeing as how you like guys." said Abelardo in a nasty tone.

"You're heavy as fuck!" Alfred growled in response.

"You're weak." responded the other, moving off him.

Now, it was Alfred's turn to tackle him.

He positioned himself, getting an idea.

Coach blew the whistle again and Alfred tilted his head forward, using his helmet as a battering ram and slamming with all his might into the Cuban's gut, causing him to let out all his breath in a rush.

Abelardo grabbed Alfred's facemask in response, yanking him to the side by his head.*

The coach was yelling at them to stop, but it was too late; Alfred was pulling back his fist and slamming it into Abelardo's stomach and Abelardo was kicking him in the leg.

"Someone stop them!" Antonio exclaimed, but despite the best efforts of the team, no one could pull them apart.

Abelardo and Alfred had never liked each other; this fight had been waiting to happen since freshman year, when Alfred had cheerfully called the Cuban fat without a second thought. Abelardo had responded with a remark about how stupid Alfred was, which upset the American.

It had all gone downhill from there.

Now, Abelardo had gained the upper hand and yanked off Alfred's helmet, punching him in the face with a force that was sure to leave a spectacular black eye.

Alfred winced, bringing his knee up between the other's legs with a force that, had the larger man not been wearing a cup, would've kept him from having children.

"Coach!" yelled Ludwig, narrowly avoiding one of Alfred's fists as the pair tumbled by.

In a manner highly reminiscent of how to break up a dogfight, the coach ran over to the small panel of switches, flipping one up and effectively turning on the sprinkler system, soaking the entire team.

The pair stopped, spluttering as their teammates dragged them apart.

"Both of you get UP!" The coach yelled at them, causing them both to stand quickly.

"Coach, was it necessary to spray all of us?" Gilbert whined.

"Can it, Beilschmidt. AND YOU TWO, THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE! MY OFFICE, _NOW_!"

The pair followed, glowering at each other.

"Fatass." Alfred growled.

"Faggot."

"Douchebag."

"Dick sucker."

"IF YOU BOYS THINK I CAN'T HEAR YOU, YOU ARE SORELY MISTAKEN!" the coach yelled.

Once they were in the coach's office, he turned to them, anger in his eyes.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?" he demanded.

"He started it!" Alfred blurted out.

"Did not! _He_ started it!" Abelardo fiercely denied.

"That's _enough_. Both of you need to _act your age. _Get out of my sight. I don't want to see either of you for the rest of the day." said the coach.

"What?" Alfred exclaimed, eyes going wide.

"You heard me, Jones. I'm your coach, not your babysitter. Both of you expect to run suicides tomorrow. Now get out. I have to go coach boys who don't act like five year olds."

The two exited, and Alfred sighed, going out to the parking lot again. He felt that coach had been too harsh on him.

"Out already?" asked Arthur, who had been sitting on the hood of Alfred's car reading a book (as instructed by Alfred himself), checking his watch. "Practice doesn't end for another half an hour."

Alfred opened his mouth to say something but didn't get the chance.

"What's wrong with you? What happened to your eye? Why are you all wet?" demanded Arthur, hopping off the hood and moving to stand in front of Alfred.

"Nothing. Practice just kind of sucked." said Alfred, not looking him in the eye.

"Your eye looks awful." said Arthur, reaching up and gently holding Alfred's chin so that he could see the beginnings of a horrible bruise, which was already a light purple color, spread over his left cheekbone.

"It's nothing. I'm fine." Alfred lied, pulling his chin out of Arthur's grip.

"Alfred, what on earth happened? You're acting strange." said Arthur, disconcerted by this sudden unwillingness to open up.

"I'm sorry. I just got in a fight with an idiot on my team, and it got really out of hand..."

"What were you fighting about?" Arthur asked, grabbing the hem of Alfred's wet jersey and pulling him a little closer.

"Us."

"Us?"

"Some people don't exactly... agree... with our relationship."

"O- oh..." Arthur looked at the ground, upset.

"But I don't care what they think." Alfred said fiercely, pressing Arthur to the door of the car with his body and tilting his head up. "I don't give a shit."

He slammed their lips together, all the anger from the entire afternoon pouring into the kiss, making Arthur feel a bit overwhelmed, but in a good way. Alfred forced his tongue through Arthur's lips without asking, making Arthur stiffen in surprise before wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck, running his fingers through damp, dark blonde hair. Their tongues fought for dominance, Arthur quickly giving in and allowing Alfred to do whatever he wanted, surrendering with a soft moan and pulling Alfred as close as he could get.

"BOTH OF YOU GO HOME!" they heard Alfred's coach yell. Oh. Practice had ended.

Alfred chuckled a bit, pulling back and allowing both of them to breathe.

"You git, you got me all wet." said Arthur, but his words didn't match his smile.

"Sorry." said the American with a sheepish laugh.

He didn't notice the frown that the coach gave them as they turned to leave.

* * *

*= this is a legit thing! It's called facemasking. You get in trouble if you do it in the NFL.

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed~!_


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Alfred to pull into the school parking lot. In the mornings, they always met by Alfred's car. But Alfred wasn't here. Where was he?

Scenarios raced through his head of everything from car crashes to kidnappings, but finally he saw the familiar Audi pull in. He let out a sigh of both relief and annoyance. Where had he been that was so important?

"Thanks for the ride, mon cher~." said Francis, getting out of the passenger's side, much to Arthur's dismay.

"No problem!" Alfred responded with a huge smile. Francis lived on his street and had knocked on his door, asking if he could get a ride. Yes, Francis was a bit... Touchy-feely, but he still couldn't see why Arthur hated the French boy so much.

'Why in bloody fuck is that _frog_ in Alfred's car?' thought Arthur, infuriated.

"Are you busy Friday night, bel homme?" asked Francis with a flirtatious smile as Alfred got out of the car to wait for Arthur.

Arthur nearly screamed, incensed. Francis, his enemy, had just called _his_ Alfred 'handsome' in French, smiled at him like that, _and_ asked him out.

Alfred, missing not only the French, the smile, but also the fact that he was getting asked out, leaned back against his door, glancing up at the sky to try and recall his schedule. "Hmmmm... I think I'm free!" he said.

"All right, see you then!" said the Frenchman, walking away with a wink.

"What the bloody hell?!" Arthur demanded, storming up to Alfred.

"Oh hey Arth- what's wrong?" asked the American, voice and smile faltering when he saw the look on Arthur's face.

"Y- you- that was- you- what the _hell_?" Arthur demanded, spinning around and exiting the parking lot, livid.

Alfred followed without a second thought, mystified. "Where are you going?" he exclaimed.

"Away." Arthur growled as they crossed the street.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Alfred asked. "Arthur!"

"Why don't you just _go_ _away_?" Arthur demanded.

"What did I do?!" Alfred exclaimed, slightly hurt.

"You realize that twat asked you out, right?!"

"What are you _talking_ about?" Alfred half-yelled, more than a little frustrated at the moment.

"Did you not hear what he _said_?"

"He asked me if I was busy Friday night, what the hell does that have to do with anything?!"

"You just- he's FRANCIS!"

"What are you so upset about?! I didn't even do anything!"

"He called you handsome!" Arthur yelled, turning to face him. "He smiled, he was flirting, you git!"

Alfred blinked. "Well how was I supposed to know that?! I'm sorry I don't automatically notice when someone is flirting with me! You act like I fucked him or something!"

"For all I know you did!" Arthur yelled at him.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt bad. Alfred just wasn't the kind of person to do that, and, judging from his shocked expression, he had crossed a line.

Alfred felt his mouth drop open a bit, surprised and hurt. "Wow." he said. "It's nice to know that you don't trust me at all."

He turned to leave, but found that he couldn't. He physically couldn't make himself move any farther away from Arthur. He could hear his mother's voice in his head, telling him and Mattie, "if you love something, you never, ever walk away from it."

So, Alfred, still upset, turned around and walked back to Arthur, pushing him against a tree and pinning the Brit's arms above his head.

"I can't leave you." he informed Arthur before pressing their lips together, firm and passionate enough to make the other open his mouth in surprise.

Arthur was confused; did this mean the argument was over? He decided to disregard all of it. Kissing Alfred was worth more than all the answers in the world. Even the answer to life itself was second best in comparison.

Once the need for oxygen became too dire to ignore, Alfred pulled back, releasing the Brit's wrists and locking eyes with him, his hurt still showing on his face.

"I'm sorry. I should have remembered that you don't speak French." apologized Arthur.

"That's not what I'm upset about." said Alfred with a frown. "I'm upset that you thought I was cheating in the first place. You should know I would never do that to you. Ever."

"Forgive me?" asked Arthur, wrapping his arms around the American, breathing in his scent and listening to his heartbeat.

"Of course." responded Alfred, running his fingers through the other's hair.

"I love you." Arthur said into Alfred's chest.

"I love you too." said Alfred. "Do you wanna go back, or...? First period starts in five minutes."

"Let's just skip. I have a better idea." said Arthur with a smirk.

"Really? What?" asked Alfred eagerly.

Arthur rolled his eyes before leaning forward. "This." he said, gripping the front of Alfred's letterman jacket and pulling him down so that their lips met again.

When they broke for breath, Alfred grinned. "I like this idea."

"I'm glad." said Arthur with a soft smile before liplocking with him again. They continued this for awhile until Alfred pulled back, moving his mouth down to Arthur's neck and planting openmouthed kisses down the side of it until he reached the junction where shoulder meets neck and nipping at the soft spot there, sucking on it and generating a moan from Arthur. He did this for a long while before pulling back and observing his work with pride, a large love mark, an angry red color with violet in the center. He connected his lips with the other boy's again, kissing him with fervor.

They could've continued like this forever, but soon, first period was nearly over and Arthur had math second period so they couldn't, much to Alfred's disappointment.

As they walked back to the school, hands intertwined, Alfred turned to Arthur excitedly. "I want to meet your brothers!"

"Th- that's not really the best idea..." said Arthur uncomfortably.

"Why not?" Alfred pouted.

"Well, love, they're... not the easiest people to get along with."

"I get along with everyone!" Alfred said, before thinking back to the fight from yesterday. "Nearly everyone." he corrected himself.

"Well, I suppose, if you must..." said Arthur.

"Yes!" Alfred exclaimed victoriously.

Arthur had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

_*gasp* foreshadowing! Haha, hope you enjoyed!_


	5. Chapter 5

_We borrowed my friend Fezzes64's OC designs! Ha, Allistor is Scotland, Aiden and Adrian are Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland, and Alan is Wales. Go check her out, she's awesome! This is a collab with Dubstepnation~. Enjoy!_

* * *

It was Saturday afternoon at the Kirkland household, and Arthur was making himself tea. He didn't see his brothers all week, but when he did, he was both happy and frustrated about it.

Allistor had a job and usually went out to bars at night, so Arthur rarely saw him during the week. However, on Saturday, Aiden, Adrian, and Alan came home from college for a bit.

Usually people asked him about their parents, but his legal guardian was actually Allistor. When they had lived back in England, nine years before, their mother and father had been there. But their father was a drunk and their mother had terminal brain cancer. They couldn't afford the medical treatments required. Allistor, the oldest, was only eighteen, and when she died, their father had left and he'd had to take care of his brothers. Arthur had been just eight and Allistor had decided that they were moving to America. They'd managed to scrape together just enough money to get five one-way plane tickets, and had landed in the United States.

Arthur couldn't recall much, but he remembered the first apartment they'd ever had. Small, one bedroom, and reeking of smoke no matter how much they'd opened the windows and sprayed air freshener. His brother had worked day and night just to afford a new apartment, one that they could breathe in. It certainly hadn't always been easy. In fact, to this day, Adrian harbored a deep grudge against Arthur. But they had made it work.

Arthur jumped, pulled from his flashback as Allistor wrapped an arm around his neck, messing up his hair, laughing as the blonde squirmed and demanded that he be let go, finally obeying his wishes after a while.

"Arthur, what's that on your neck?" asked Allistor in slight amusement, pointing at the mark at the base of Arthur's neck.

"It- it's a bruise!" said Arthur, blushing furiously and struggling to pull up the collar of his t-shirt.

"A bruise? Looks more like you had some fun with a lass! Did little Artie finally get some?" asked Allistor gleefully, laughing.

"No! I didn't! Stop it!" Arthur exclaimed.

"No need to be ashamed, you should be proud! Is she pretty?"

"…. You could say that. I suppose _he_ is."

"Looks like she's feisty, too! Just your type!"

"Y- Yeah, _he_ is."

"Well at least you finally found someone; I thought you'd be forever alone because you're so boring!"

"I am not!"

"You are! No fun. Like an old man! Look at how grumpy you are!"

"Stop it! I am not an old man!"

Allistor let out a booming laugh before slapping Arthur on the back. "I'm just messing with you! Calm down or your little girlfriend will think you're no fun!"

"I am fun!"

Allistor snickered, sitting down in a chair at the dining room table and lighting a cigar. "You sure don't seem like it!"

Before Arthur could say anything, his phone skipped sideways on the counter, ringing.

"You might want to pick that up, it might be your _lover_." Laughed Allistor.

"Shut up!" he said, grabbing the phone. It was, indeed, his  
lover.

"Hey! Can I come in yet?" said the American before Arthur could even say hello.

"What? What do you mean?" asked Arthur, confused.

"I _mean_ I'm outside in your driveway! Can I come in now? I'm bored!" Alfred whined into his ear.

"Why are you in my driveway?!"

"Because! I want to meet your brothers and you said I could but you've been putting me off all week!" complained Alfred.

This was true. Arthur had met Alfred's family just a few days ago, including his brother, Matthew. They had absolutely loved him, and the feeling had been mutual.

The real thing that Arthur was worried about was whether Alfred would even still like him after this was over. His brothers weren't exactly easy to deal with, and they would take any opportunity they could get to humiliate him.

Arthur sighed. "Fine, fine, just give me a moment."

"Okay! But can you hurry up because I'm dying of boredom out here!"

"Yes, yes, okay love. Allistor?"

The Scot, who had been listening to Arthur's side of the conversation with amusement, nodded.

"Um, would you mind meeting the person I've been going out with _right_ _now_? He's very… impatient."

"Sure, but I thought you said it was a lass. It's a lad?"

"I _told_ you it was a boy, you wanker, you just weren't listening!"

Allistor laughed. "That's because you're so boring!"

"I am _not_ boring!"

"Oh, just go let him in. I want to see the man crazy enough to think he can put up with you!" laughed Allistor.

Arthur sighed in annoyance, storming over to the door and opening it, only to see Alfred.

"Hey! I was waiting but I got bored so I decided to come knock on the door but then you opened it!" said Alfred.

"I see. Well, come on in." he said, grabbing Alfred's hand and leading him inside.

"This is my brother, Allistor." He said, pointing to the said male.

"Hi! I'm Alfred, dude!" said the American.

Arthur bit his lip nervously as Alfred extended his hand for a handshake, smiling, which Allistor shook.

"So, you're dating my little brother." stated Allistor with a mischievous grin.

"Yeah dude! He's super awesome and a great kisser!" exclaimed Alfred, leading Arthur to blush and cringe and Allistor to throw his head back, snorting, "a great kisser?!"

"Yeah! He's great!" Alfred said, apparently not understanding how much he was embarrassing Arthur in this moment.

"I suppose, if you like boring!" chortled Allistor, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Stop it, Allistor! I am not boring!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Oh, he's _anything_ but boring." Alfred said with a wink, which sent Allistor into fits of laughter and made Arthur turn the color of a stop sign.

"Stop laughing!" Arthur commanded, humiliated beyond belief.

"I was being serious." Alfred told his brother with a grin, which made him laugh even harder, bent double and not even making noise as tears streamed from his eyes.

"I like your family!" Alfred said decisively with a smile as Arthur hid his hands with his face, praying that he would melt into the floor.

"That's _quite_ enough!" said Arthur, dragging Alfred out of the room, instead upstairs to Adrian and Aiden's room.

"I'm warning you, Adrian… isn't… really fond of me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean just what I said, now come along and meet them." Said Arthur, knocking on the door.

"Yes?" an almost-in-unison reply came, which was kind of creepy.

"I have someone I'd like you two to meet, a friend."

"A boyfriend." Alfred corrected.

"Yes, a boyfriend, now could you both please meet him?"

The door swung open, revealing two boys of about nineteen, mirror images of each other.

"A boyfriend? Really?" asked one with a smile on his face that promised Arthur would be teased mercilessly. Alfred decided this must be Aiden.

"Yes." He said impatiently.

"Wouldn't think _you_ could get a boyfriend. Or anyone for that matter." said the other one with a frown, who Alfred was fairly certain was Adrian.

Arthur glared at Adrian. "Well, obviously, I did."

"Shocking." Responded the other, glaring right back.

"You got a boyfriend?" laughed Aiden with a disbelieving laugh.

Arthur huffed. "_Yes_."

"Why would you want to be with him?" asked Adrian, looking at Alfred for an answer as to why the American would choose his brother.

"Because he's totally perfect, who wouldn't?" asked Alfred, wrapping an arm around Arthur and pulling him close.

Adrian rolled his eyes as Aiden burst into laughter.

"Perfect? _Arthur_? Have you ever heard of the time he peed himself at church?" Aiden half-yelled, looking positively amused.

"THAT'S ENOUGH! WE ALL AGREED TO NEVER TALK ABOUT THAT AGAIN!" Arthur said loudly, wanting to die right then and there.

Alfred laughed. "Wait, I don't get to hear this story?"

"NO!" Arthur exclaimed.

"But you're so cute, I wanna hear about the time you peed yourself at church!"

"I'm not cute, you git!" Arthur exclaimed, his face a brilliant shade of pink.

"Well, you see, this once, we were at church, and Arthur had just gotten done drinking some tea—" began Aiden.

"OKAY, THERE'S ADRIAN AND AIDEN, LET'S GO MEET ALAN!" Arthur practically dragged the American from the room towards the one brother he knew would like Alfred no matter what.

"Alan? I have someone I want you to meet." Said the Brit, stepping into what appeared to be a study.

"Really? Who would that be?"

"This is Alfred." Arthur said, gesturing at the taller boy.

"Nice to meet you." Alan said, shaking hands with Alfred and glancing over at Arthur.

"We're going out." Alfred said bluntly.

"Really, for how long?"

"Mmmm… A week? A week and a half?" said the American, glancing up as he counted the days.

"A week? _Only_ a week?" asked Alan, glancing at Arthur's hickey. Arthur mentally cursed and decided he would kill Alfred if the boy ever left a mark again.

"Yeah, dude! He's awesome!"

"Ah, I see. Well, I was in the middle of something, so, if you don't mind. Oh, and Arthur, once your guest is gone, I need some help with something." Said Alan, looking at Arthur in a rather stern manner.

"All right! Bye!" called the American, waving as Alan walked away. He then turned to Arthur with an excited grin and asked, "Can I see your room?"

"Of course, if you want." Arthur affirmed, leading the American down the hall to his bedroom, closing the door once the boy was in.

"Wow, this is so cool!" exclaimed Alfred, looking around excitedly.

"I suppose so." Said Arthur, standing in the middle of the room and glancing out the window, worrying about Alan. The face his brother had made at him earlier had been one he rarely saw, and only when he was doing something the other wouldn't approve of. Usually, Alan was the only one he had, the one who was by his side during anything.

"Not as cool as you though." said the other, cupping Arthur's face with one hand and turning the Brit towards him, kissing him, starting off slow and innocent but turning heated. Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck as Alfred nipped at his bottom lip, asking for entrance, which was immediately granted. Alfred slid an arm around he Brit's waist as they fell back onto the bed, not breaking the kiss, Alfred on top and Arthur on the bottom.

Suddenly, the door banged open and a loud Scottish accent yelled, "ARTIE, I'M GOING TO THE STORE! DID YOU WANT ANYTH….. Anything?" Allistor had blinked upon seeing the scene he was interrupting, but continued on, unfazed as Alfred moved off of Arthur at the speed of light, flinging himself to the opposite side of the bed, for once blushing just as much as the Brit.

"N- NO! GET OUT!" Arthur shouted, tossing the nearest item, which happened to be a book, at Allistor.

Allistor laughed as he ducked out of the room, the book crashing against the door loudly.

"Sorry." Alfred laughed sheepishly.

"It's okay." Said Arthur. "But, you should probably get going. I have to talk to Alan about something."

"Arthur!" Alfred whined.

"Alfred." Responded Arthur, leaning forward and giving him a quick peck on the lips. "Go home. I love you. I'll see you on Monday."

Alfred sighed, lower lip stuck out in a pout. "All right."

Once he had shown the American to the door, Arthur nervously walked back to Alan's study.

"You wanted to talk to me?" he asked. He wasn't sure what he was so nervous about. After all, this was _Alan_. The one who picked him up when he was down and listened and _cared_. There was no reason to be so scared.

So why was he?

"Actually, I don't need your help. I do want to talk to you though. I'd like to talk to you about Alfred." Alan stated.

"… What about him?"

"Well… He said you'd only been going out for a week, and, forgive me if I'm wrong, but, you appear to have a hickey."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Only a week and you have a hickey. Don't you think you're taking things a bit fast?"

"Well, maybe…"

"How long have you _known_ him?"

"A while… four years."

"Well, I think you need to slow down. You skipped class on Monday. You were with him, weren't you? He's a bad influence. Don't try to lie and say you didn't, Allistor was over the moon that you had done something exciting and he showed me the letter."

"What? That was only one time, Alan!"

"You can't afford to miss class, Arthur. It looks bad on a transcript. What do you even like so much about him anyway?"

"What the bloody hell does it matter to you? I like him because he's good looking and athletic and he cares about me!"

"Couldn't you pick someone better? Honestly, Arthur, I only want what's best for you and this guy is all wrong for you. I don't care that you're dating a guy but I care that you're dating this one."

"Wrong? What's _wrong_ with Alfred?"

"He just doesn't seem like your type at all."

"I've liked him for the past four years!"

"Why? You could do so much better and you choose a stupid jock."

"I… I love him."

"You _love_ him." Alan repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes, I do love him you wanker! That's why I introduced him to you, and don't you dare tell me he's all wrong for me because he's the one who wanted to meet you lot, I didn't want to bring him here at all! I met his family already and they were positively delightful! He obviously cares enough to think that we should meet each other's families!"

"It's not even going to work out. Honestly, you really believe that it will, Arthur? It won't. High school romances never do. Don't do something you can't take back because once you do, he'll drop you and move on. That's just how it is."

"Stop telling me things like that! What on earth is your problem, you're usually on _my_ side!"

"I don't want you to act like a lovesick idiot and get hurt! This whole argument is just proof that you can't control yourself!"

"Quit being such an arse!"

"Look, just do what you want. Just remember this when you're heartbroken because he dumped you." snapped Alan, turning his back on Arthur.

"Asshole." Arthur told Alan's back before going to his room furiously.

He couldn't believe that Alan, _Alan_, the one person who had had his back through everything, didn't have his back on the one thing that mattered most. He wanted to cry, or throw something, or scream at someone, but he knew none of those things would help.

He was going to have to have faith in Alfred. Their whole relationship depended on it.

* * *

_Hope_ _you_ _liked_!


	6. Chapter 6

_Hope you like~!_

* * *

The game was about to start, and Alfred had high hopes for this one. He smiled at Arthur, pecking the Brit on the lips before running out onto the field as Arthur dashed up into the stands with his saxophone.

The American came to a stop behind Antonio, waiting for the whistle to blow. Alfred caught the ball, tossing it to Ludwig, who ran down the field and scored a touchdown.

Another play began, and Alfred noted that Abelardo was open, so he threw it to the Cuban.

Alfred saw the ball fly in a tight spiral down the field, heading straight for Abelardo. The larger boy simply stepped out of the way. Alfred's mouth fell open. Did he just…? If one hadn't been watching closely enough, it looked as though it was _Alfred's_ fault.

Abelardo smirked at him.

The American glowered as the coach yelled, "Jones! What the hell are you doing?!"

The opposing team had already run the ball back to their endzone and scored a touchdown.

The coach shook his head disgustedly.

Unfortunately, the rest of the plays continued in the same manner, with Abelardo messing up everything Alfred did and the American himself getting blamed for it.

Once the game was over, with a staggering loss on their part of 7-49, the team made their way back to the locker room.

"What was that?" Abelardo asked.

"What was THAT?" Alfred demanded, turning to the Cuban. "I could ask you the same thing, seeing as how you fucked up everything I threw to you."

"You just sucked."

"_I sucked_?! You didn't do anything!" Alfred exclaimed, turning to face the Cuban angrily.

"Maybe it's just your stupid boyfriend."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded furiously.

"Now that you have him, you're all distracted, faggot." He said.

Alfred gripped the front of the Cuban's shirt, slamming him into the lockers. "Say that again you fatass pussy bastard." he snarled, just as the coach came around the corner.

"Jones! Unhand that boy right now and get your ass in my office!"

Alfred stomped into the coach's office.

"Jones, have you lost your mind?" the coach demanded.

"No." He said, crossing his arms.

"Fighting with your teammates? Failing classes? Losing games? You had better get it together or you won't be on this team at all!" yelled the coach.

"Yes sir." He said in a strained voice.

"What the hell is your issue, boy?! Do you think this is funny?! Because I don't! You may be good, but I can replace you if needed. DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"Yes coach, I hear you!" Alfred yelled back, temper flaring.

"You drop that attitude right now or you'll be benched for the rest of the year! Get it through that thick head of yours, you are not an adult, we are not equals, I am your coach and you listen to me!"

"Yes sir." The said through clenched teeth.

"Get out of my sight." the coach pointed at the door.

"Fine." Alfred hissed, stomping out.

Arthur was sitting on the bench outside the locker room, waiting for Alfred, when the last player, Abelardo, exited.

"Hey, aren't you Alfred's little boyfriend?" asked the Cuban with a nasty smirk.

"Yes." Arthur said. He had seen what Abelardo was doing on the field and didn't appreciate it one bit. "What's it to you?"

"We lost the game because of you. I don't like losing."

"It was your own shoddy playing." The Brit said.

"Well, how about I mess up your face so that he doesn't like you anymore?" asked the Cuban, grabbing the front of Arthur's shirt and dragging him up.

"H-hey! Let's not get aggressive!"

"That's the only thing he likes about you anyway. You're annoying and you're always a jerk so I'm pretty sure he just likes you for your looks." Commented the Cuban, pulling back a fist. "Let's fix that."

"Let me go you wanker!" Arthur said furiously. He was trying to act brave but he _was_ a bit nervous.

Unfortunately for Abelardo, but fortunately for Arthur, Alfred was suddenly there, livid. He grabbed the Cuban's fist, punching him in the face simultaneously, causing him to release Arthur. The American could've stopped there, but didn't, shoving the larger boy to the ground and quickly following, slamming his fists wherever he could reach on the Cuban, unable to control himself.

Alfred was usually very cheerful and benign, but it was always terrifying for whoever he released his wrath on when angry. He continued beating the living shit out of Abelardo, infuriated.

"Stop Alfred!" Arthur ran over, knowing that Alfred could cause some serious damage and would get in trouble.

Alfred ignored him completely, shoving his fist into the Cuban's ribs with an ominous cracking noise.

"Stop!" Arthur wrapped his arms around the other's torso, trying to pull him off.

Alfred slowed his blows to a stop, breathing heavily and glancing behind him at the Brit.

Alfred stood up wordlessly, leaving the Cuban behind him as he walked along the hall, slowly enough for Arthur to catch up.

"Thank you." Arthur said, "He was going to beat me."

"I know." Alfred said, still trying to calm down. He wasn't looking the Brit in the eyes, ashamed by his own actions.

"Take deep breaths, okay? It's all going to be okay." Arthur said, grabbing the American's arm and making the other turn and face him. He knew that Alfred was embarrassed, but he wasn't upset in the least.

Alfred shook his head. "You could've gotten hurt. He almost hurt you and I wasn't there to help you."

"But he didn't."

"But he almost did _because_ of me. Because he hates me." Alfred said, eyebrows creasing as he looked at Arthur.

"Shh." Arthur leaned in, "it doesn't matter anymore, love." He cupped Alfred's face in his hands.

Alfred opened his mouth to protest but didn't get a chance. At first, the kiss seemed to be innocent, but turned rather passionate. Alfred made a small noise in the back of his throat as he pushed the Brit against the wall, sliding his arms around Arthur's waist. Arthur twined his fingers into Alfred's hair, moaning into his mouth. Alfred slid his tongue into Arthur's mouth, exploring as he tilted his head slightly.

"HEY, YOU TWO, THERE'S A BETTER PLACE TO DO THAT!" the coach yelled, looking irritated at the fact that every time he left this happened.

Alfred broke the kiss, annoyed.

"Go away, old sod." Arthur growled.

"That's my coach." Alfred told the smaller male, moving off him.

"So?"

Alfred smiled at the Brit's nonchalance. "I'd rather not be benched for the rest of the season." he commented as they walked out towards the American's car.

"Oh, right, sorry." Arthur smiled sheepishly.

"Uh huh. Hey, we're going to the dance together, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so. But, I don't really dance." Said Arthur, flushing pink at the thought of even attempting to do that in front of other people

"Great." said the American with a grin, not noticing Arthur's discomfort, starting the car.

The Brit sighed. He really hoped that this, too, wouldn't be messed up.


	7. Chapter 7

On Friday night, Arthur's phone rang.

"Yes?" He answered curiously.

"Are you ready? The dance is in half an hour and it takes fifteen minutes to get there!"

"Oh bollocks, yes, don't worry!" He said, stumbling to get ready.

"I'm turning into now, be ready, okay?" asked Alfred, the smile he had evident in his tone.

"I'm not ready!" Arthur said, hanging up and cursing as he ripped off his clothes.

"Artie! What are you doing?" Allistor asked, barging into his room with no permission whatsoever.

"I AM UNCLOTHED!" The Brit yelled at his brother, making haste to cover his unicorn boxers.

Allistor glanced down. "You are, aren't you?" he agreed, not fazed at all.

"GET OUT!" Arthur screamed, pointing to the door.

"But I had to tell you something!"

"WHAT?"

"Hmm... I don't remember, you made me forget."

"THEN GET OUT!"

"Wait, I remember! Your boyfriend's downstairs!"

"Okay... NOW GET OUT!"

"Hey, Allistor, I kind of spilled the water you gave me, where are... The... Towels..." the American trailed off as he caught sight of Arthur, a smile appearing on his face as he took in the underwear.

"BOTH OF YOU, OUT!" He pushed them both out and slammed the door.

Alfred laughed, looking at the Allistor. "I have no regrets about that."

"That was very entertaining. He always has been a bit insecure about his body."

Alfred laughed again. "I really did spill the water though. Where are the towels?"

"There in the bathroom. It's down the hall."

Alfred nodded, cleaning up the spill and waiting for Arthur.

"Are you ready to go?" Arthur asked once he was ready, strolling over to the American. He was dressed in a classic black suit with a matching tie.

"Yeah, sure... You look great!" said the American, who didn't look too bad himself, dressed in a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black slacks… And a clip on tie. At least he _attempted _to dress nicely. He still looked amazing in Arthur's opinion.

"Why thank you!" The Brit said, "Let's go."

"All right." said Alfred with a grin.

"Have him home by ten!" Allistor exclaimed before bursting into laughter and clapping the American on the back. "Just kidding! Get him home whenever you want to!"

"Thanks man!" Alfred said, grabbing Arthur by the hand, "I will!"

"You git!" Arthur sputtered as he realized that Alan was standing in the doorway watching with a disapproving expression.

"Hey dude!" Alfred cheerfully greeted, oblivious to the daggers he was being pierced with.

"Shhh! Idiot!" the Brit chastised as he dragged Alfred out by the collar of his shirt.

"Dude, what was that?"

"N- Nothing! I- I'll tell you later. Let's just get to the dance!"

"Ok!" Alfred grabbed Arthur's hand and dragged him to the car.

Arthur followed, relieved that the American hadn't questioned him further.

Once they arrived at the dance, Alfred couldn't contain his excitement.

"Dude this place looks awesome!" Alfred exclaimed, gaping at the gym, which had been transformed into a huge ballroom.

"Yes, it looks lovely." Arthur agreed with a smile.

"Come on, let's dance!" Alfred said happily.

"Wait!" Arthur said, slightly panicked. If there was one thing he _couldn't_ do, that would be dancing. It's hard to learn how to dance when you spend all your time studying, keeping track of your brothers, and practicing an instrument. "I'm thirsty! Why don't you go get us some punch?"

"Of course dude! Then we'll dance!" He said cheerfully, going to the refreshments table.

The Brit let out a sigh of relief, glancing around at the people there.

He saw Feliciano and Ludwig, the former of these tugging on the German's hand, insisting that they dance. Arthur felt Ludwig's pain.

He also saw Lovino and Antonio; the Spaniard was saying something to the angry Italian, tilting up Lovino's chin.

There was Gilbert, standing with Matthew, who was blushing severely.

He glanced over at the table with refreshments on it, where Alfred was standing, cheerfully talking with Feliks, who happened to be wearing a dress, with Toris standing behind him, holding what appeared to be a purse. Feliks' purse? Arthur decided not to question it.

Abelardo was nearby, alone, with several bruises on his face and a dirty look for Arthur, but fortunately he didn't say anything.

"Yeah dude, I'm happy for you two! Glad Toris came outta the closet finally about liking you. Hey, listen, I gotta get back to Artie, but nice talkin' to ya Feliks!" Alfred said.

The Pol nodded in agreement, waving at Alfred before turning back to Toris. "Let's dance!"

"Here you go!" said Alfred, handing Arthur a cup.

"Thank you." Arthur took the plastic red solo cup and drank some of the punch, which was the stereotypical flavor of cherry.

"So, are you ready to dance?!" asked the American excitedly.

"No, let's wait a bit, alright?" He asked, wanting to stall as much as he could.

Alfred sighed like a child who had just been denied something that they wanted so badly. "All right." he agreed.

They waited several songs, until it changed to a slow song.

"Now?" the American repeated; he had done this for every single song that came on.

"Oh all right." He said, attempting to sound irritated but only succeeding in sounding nervous.

"Great!" said the American, dragging Arthur up before he could protest, pulling him all the way to the dance floor before leaning down to whisper in his ear, "You don't know how to dance, do you?"

"Not at all." The Brit replied with a light blush. "I never learned."

"Here, you put your hands on my shoulders, like this." said the American, taking the Brit's arms and resting them on his shoulders. "And then I put my hands on your waist." he demonstrated, resting his hands on Arthur's hips.

Arthur blushed harder, distracted by Alfred's hands. "I-I see."

"Now, you step forward with your left foot when I step back with my right, and then I step to the right and you step to your left, and then you step back and I step forward. And we do that. It's a square." said Alfred, nodding down at their feet for Arthur to see as the Brit stumbled a bit.

After several moments of stumbling around, Arthur had it down, so that they swayed together with the music.

"See? This isn't so bad." said Alfred, smiling down at Arthur.

"Yes. It's romantic." Arthur said.

"It was really hard to get you out here, but I'm glad I did. You're all proper and stuff, I thought you would know how to slow dance!"

"I never learned..." He blushed again from embarrassment.

"It's okay, I had fun teaching you." said Alfred with a smile as the song ended and another, even more romantic one started up.

Arthur said no more, instead, opted to lean against the American, swaying with him and the music.

Alfred rested his chin on top of the Brit's head, glancing up and seeing Abelardo glaring at him. He slid one hand up from Arthur's waist, shooting the Cuban the middle finger with a glare before putting his hand back where it had been.

Arthur reached up and planted a little kiss on Alfred's jaw, before snuggling his face up against the other's chest once more.

"I love you." Alfred commented, as though stating what color the sky was.

"I love you too." Arthur said, voice muffled by Alfred's chest.

"Are you happy?" Alfred asked, suddenly serious.

"Mhm, why wouldn't I be?" He asked, looking up, confused.

"Like, seriously, are you happy? I don't mean this," the American nodded at the room to imply the dance itself. "I mean, with us."

"More than you could ever imagine." Arthur responded.

Alfred smiled, leaning in and closing his eyes, connecting their mouths.

As this kiss took place, Arthur worried. About Alan, and what he might say.

Alfred noted the lack of response and frowned, pulling back. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine love." He said.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am, you have nothing to worry about."

"Okay… Arthur?"

"Yes, love?"

"I thought this was going to be fun but it's really just lots of people standing around and it's hot in here so can we go to McDonalds because I wanted to be with you and that's the only reason I wanted to come."

Arthur laughed. "Of course, love."

"You know what?" Alfred asked as they walked out.

"What?"

"Anywhere is fine, as long as I'm with you." The American remarked, prompting a blush from the Brit.

* * *

_Hey! So, Dubstepnation and I realized that this was slightly depressing, so we thought we owed you guys a slightly happy chapter~! Here's the dance~ hope you enjoy; please review! It motivates us to write more ;)_


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey guys! This one amazing review from Thirteenth Star really made our day so we quickly wrote this next chapter. We only have two chapters left, can you believe that? We think that y'all will really like them. Please enjoy this one, and review~_

* * *

The Monday after the dance, during lunch, Alfred sat down next to Im Yong Soo.

"Hi Alfred, da-ze."

"Hey." Responded the American in a fed up tone. He really just needed to vent to someone, and, well, Im Yong Soo was there.

"What's wrong, da-ze?"

"Football… It's just…. I'm about to give it up. It's just not working, I'm not happy with it."

"Seriously?"

"It's just hard to do. Everyone's always on my ass."

"Really? Well, good luck." Said the Korean, standing to go throw away his trash.

"Yeah, thanks for listening." Sighed Alfred, unaware of a nearby Italian who had overheard.

'It's… It's not working…?' Feliciano thought to himself. He had seen Arthur looking irritated today too…. Maybe…?

"Ludwig! Ludwig!" he shouted, running down the hall in search of the German.

"Ja, what is it?" asked the blonde, turning to face the screaming Italian.

"Ludwig, Alfred is going to break up with Arthur! He said it's too difficult and it's not working, Luddy I don't want them to break up!"

"You bastard! I don't want to go over there, the _potato_ bastard is over there, with my idiot fratello!" Lovino's voice could be heard complaining as Antonio dragged him over to the pair by the hand.

"What? Alfred and Arthur are breaking up?"

"Si! Oh, this is terrible!" Feliciano fretted.

"Hmm… I bet Francis would know…" said the Spaniard, turning around and pulling the still-unwilling Italian away, whose complaint was now, "Oh, not your fucking pervert friends! Damn it!"

Antonio ignored him, pulling him over to where Francis and Gilbert were sitting, flirting with passing girls.

"Guess what I heard, mi amigos?" Antonio asked secretively as Lovino glared at his friends.

Francis raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow as Gilbert demanded excitedly, "What?"

"Alfred and Arthur are through! Apparently Alfred said it's not working."

"I bet Alfred is tired of the things that Arthur does… Alfred is very good-looking, I wouldn't mind—"

"Yeah, yeah, Frenchie, now, Toni, are you sure?!"

Truly, everyone in the school talked about Alfred and Arthur's relationship. It didn't matter who it was. They were just so different. Alfred was one of the most popular people in school. Add that to the fact that Arthur was a band geek and you have something interesting to talk about every day. No one knew why it was so interesting, but it was.

"That's what I heard."

"I'm going to go tell Luddy!" exclaimed the Prussian, dashing off.

"Luddy! Luddy!" Gilbert yelled at the blonde.

"Ja, what?" the German was talking with Kiku and was highly irritated at being interrupted.

"Did you hear that Arthur and Alfred are going to break up?!"

"I have heard. Several times." Ludwig said tiredly. He had literally only just gotten done dealing with Feliciano. "Why don't you go and hang out with that one kid you always hang out with? What is his name, Mark?"

"His name is Mattie! He's very awesome!" said the Prussian, whipping around and heading to go hang out with the quiet Canadian.

"I have to go, Ludwig-san. Goodbye." The Japanese boy quickly dismissed himself with a bow, hurrying off.

He was friends with Arthur. He normally agreed with everything Alfred said, but this wasn't one of those times. It seemed that everyone in the school knew Arthur was going to get dumped before Arthur himself knew, and Kiku couldn't allow that to happen.

He searched the school until, finally, he found Arthur in the library.

"Arthur-san." He announced himself.

Arthur turned around, surprised. "Yes?"

"I have to tell you something, and you will not like it."

Now Arthur was worried. "Yes, what is it?"

"I have heard several people say Alfred-san is going to break up with you."

"Wh- what?" Arthur said, eyes going wide.

"That is what I have heard."

"I can't believe this." Arthur said, feeling tears prick up as he desperately bit his lip to keep them back. He really couldn't. After all they had been through, Alfred was going to break up with him? This truly was unbelievable. He had given up his favorite brother's opinion of him, he had basically told all his friends where they could stick it, he had let his grades slip a bit, and _this_ was how Alfred was going to repay him. By dropping him like a used toy.

"I am sorry, but I felt like you should know." The Japanese boy apologized.

"I see. Thank you for telling me." The blonde said in a thick voice, hurrying off before Kiku could say anything.

"Alfred?" Matthew asked, standing above his brother, who was brooding at the lunch table.

"Yeah?"

"Um, I heard that Arthur is crying. I don't know why, but people said they saw him walking down the hall crying."

"Shit, thanks Matt."

Before Matthew could say anything, Alfred was dashing out of the lunchroom.

Arthur wandered aimlessly down the hallway, tears streaming out. So Alan was right. His friends were right. Alfred had lied. He couldn't face Alfred now, not when he knew all the American was going to do was tell him it was over.

He could vaguely hear footsteps. Not as though someone was walking, this sounded like someone was running. Confused, he turned around.

There was Alfred, turning the corner.

'No, no, not now.' The Brit thought, turning quickly and hurrying down the hallway. Perhaps Alfred hadn't seen him, perhaps Alfred wouldn't recognize him from the back.

"Arthur!" Alfred called. "Arthur!"

And then the American was right next to him, grabbing his arm. The boy was fast, Arthur gave him that. But then, he supposed, he wasn't in football for nothing.

"Arthur." Alfred repeated, quieter now, and slightly breathless.

Arthur let out a sharp breath, refusing to look at him. "Wh- what, you bloody git?"

"What's wrong?" Alfred asked, observing the Brit, cheeks lightly flushed, wet tracks down them with a few tears clinging to his eyelashes.

"Everything is fine." Arthur responded in a shaky voice.

"You're lying." Alfred said, his grip tightening ever so slightly on Arthur's arm. "You were crying. _Who_ _did_ _it_?"

Really? Was Alfred playing some kind of cruel game, pretending that he cared about him? "You did."

"Me?" repeated the American, mystified.

"Y- yes!" Suddenly his tears made a reappearance, streaming out like waterfalls. "You _arse! _What are you playing at?! I know you want to break up so just fucking do it and quit playing with me!"

"What?" Alfred blinked, startled. Not only at the accusation, but at Arthur's anger. He'd never been on the receiving end of _that_ before. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play games with me! You said so yourself, Kiku told me!" the Brit's voice cracked on the last syllable and he began to cry harder, against his will.

"I didn't say anything like that, I swear!" said Alfred, trying to get Arthur to stop crying.

Arthur didn't respond.

"Please, don't cry! I didn't say that! I don't want to break up with you!" the American said quickly, wrapping his arms around Arthur and pulling him to his chest.

Arthur blinked. "R- Really?" he sniffled.

"Really! I promise! Now stop crying!"

"I'm sorry…" the Brit apologized. He wasn't sure what exactly he was apologizing for. For doubting Alfred, for cursing at him, for believing everyone over him.

"It's okay, just please stop crying!"

Arthur laughed, a slightly shaky sound. "All right, love. I am."

Alfred tilted the Brit's chin up, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. "I hate it when you cry."

"You know what would make me smile?"

"Does it have anything to do with me kissing you? Even if it doesn't I'm going to do it anyway." The American informed him before planting a light kiss on the Arthur's mouth.

Incidentally, it did make him smile.


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks so much for all the reviews, guys! In answer to a few things, like zoewinter1, your review made us laugh so hard, I don't even think you know. And that would be awesome, but the reasons why he's not going to are here in this chapter. Thirteenth Star, thank you so much for your amazing reviews! They make our day. Thank you lovelies! One more chapter and it'll be over ;-; but thanks for sticking with us! Hope you enjoy~_

* * *

Alfred never actually quit football; especially after Arthur pointed out to him it would probably get him a scholarship. Once everything had been smoothed over, with a stern reprimand from Arthur to Kiku, it was time for midterms, which led to Arthur being twice as snappy as normal. Naturally, Alfred wasn't bothered and continued to tease him. The year was flying by, and then it was May.

"Alfred! Could you go get the mail?" Alfred's mother called from downstairs.

"Hell yes I can!" he shouted back, racing down the steps. His college letters might be there!

"Language!"

"Sorry!" he apologized as he ripped open the door, grabbing the mail. And… there it was! A letter! From the college he had applied to! He opened it at the speed of light, quickly reading the line, 'We are pleased to inform you…'

"YES! YES! FUCK YES!" He shouted.

"Alfred Jones, you _watch_ _your_ _mouth_!"

"Sorry mom! But mom! Mom! I got accepted!" he thought for a moment. "I'm going to go tell Arthur!"

Before his mom could respond, he was out the door, racing down the sidewalk towards Arthur's house. About halfway there, he realized he could've taken the car, but oh well.

As he reached the front door to Arthur's house, he pounded on it with his fist excitedly.

"Yes, yes, what is it?" asked Arthur, opening the door and looking quite irritated, expression softening a bit when he saw Alfred.

"Look! I got in!" Alfred said, shoving the letter into Arthur's face.

"That's lovely!" Arthur responded as the postman came up the sidewalk, handing him the mail and walking away.

"Oh!" Arthur said, grabbing it and opening one envelope quickly. It was his acceptance letter.

"O- oh no…" said Arthur, face going slightly pale. Paler than normal, that is.

"What? What's wrong?" asked Alfred, looking at the Brit, concerned.

"I… I got in…" Arthur said.

"O… Kay? And that's a bad thing?"

"Uh… Th- the one that I got into… It's in England."

There was a moment of silence before Alfred shouted, "**_ENGLAND_**?!"

"Yes, England." Arthur agreed, face looking as though he didn't quite believe it himself.

"You got accepted somewhere else, right? You're smart, of course you did. Why wouldn't you, I mean, who wouldn't want you, there's _got to be somewhere that wanted you that is in America_." Alfred rambled, grabbing the rest of the mail and ripping through it quickly.

"There's not! This is the only one!" Arthur snapped, grabbing it from him.

"Fuck no! This isn't happening. I'm gonna wake up and I'm gonna be sore from practice, and this is all going to be a dream."

"This _is_ happening, you twit. Didn't _you_ get accepted anywhere else?"

"No! It was a football scholarship! It's in state!" Alfred half-wailed, sitting down heavily on Arthur's porch step, knees pulled to his chest.

Arthur sighed, closing the door behind him and joining the American on the step. "I'm sorry."

Alfred was silent for a moment, staring out at the street. The late morning air had a light breeze. It was just warm enough, sun shining golden over everything. It was too beautiful, really, to happen on a day like this.

Arthur looked up at the unusually melancholic American, observing his profile, the way his hair gleamed gold, his eyelashes casting slight shadows over his cheekbones, his ocean-blue eyes staring straight forward, the way his mouth lacked its normal smile.

At last, Alfred spoke. "What are we gonna do?"

Arthur sighed. "I… I don't know."

* * *

_Sorry to leave you guys on a cliffhanger, but everything will be taken care of next chapter, which is the last chapter. Love y'all!_


	10. Chapter 10

_It's the last chapter. Thank you so much for reading this all the way through. I desperately hope this lives up to what you wanted the end to be, and Merry Christmas! Thank y'all so much for sticking with us :)_

* * *

Arthur walked through the campus, heading for his dorm. It was April, pouring rain, and chilly, which was actually normal for England anyway. He had on a coat and scarf, but he was regretting not wearing something heavier as icy water dripped into his eyes and down his back. He was freezing and exhausted, but thankfully he had the rest of the day off. As it was only about noon, he figured he could stop by his room, have a cup of tea while studying, and get some sleep.

He missed Alfred so much. He desperately longed to feel the American's warm touch, hear his happy voice. But Alfred was off at college in America, currently a football sensation. He wanted to wrap his arms around Alfred's waist and feel the American's firm body pressing against his own, and he wanted to feel the American's soft lips on his, so badly that it almost hurt.

The Brit was pulled from his thoughts as suddenly there was a sharp tug on his scarf. He whirled around, ready to snap at someone, before finding himself looking into a pair of beautiful and familiar blue eyes. And then suddenly, there were lips on his, moving against his mouth enthusiastically, in a manner too good to be true. Regardless, he slid his hands up, tangling his fingers in the wet blonde hair of his lover, kissing back eagerly.

After a long moment, panting slightly, Arthur pulled back, dumbfounded. That was certainly unexpected.

"Hi!" Alfred said excitedly.

"Alfred, you git, what are you doing here?" asked Arthur, pretending to be annoyed, although he wasn't really.

"I came to see you!" the American answered, wrapping him in a tight hug before he could protest.

Since they had decided to keep dating, their relationship mostly consisted of texts, phone calls, Skyping, and the occasional letter.

The last letter Arthur had gotten from the American had been a yellow envelope containing a very sappy letter and the doubles of pictures they had taken the summer before school began. Arthur's favorite, a one of them standing in front of a lake holding hands, had actually been taken by Matthew, and was candid. It was currently framed and sitting on the Brit's bedside table. In it, Alfred was looking at him, and even from the side you could see the adoration in his expression. Arthur was looking back at him as well, a slight smile on his face as he observed the American. The sun had been shining off the water just right, turning everything golden, and Arthur absolutely loved it.

Arthur certainly hadn't been expecting Alfred to suddenly show up, in England of all places.

"I've missed you so much!" Alfred told him happily.

"I've missed you too, love." Arthur confessed, wrapping his arms around the American's neck. "And how is school going?"

"Fucking great!" lately, when you Googled Alfred's name, sports articles came up, praising his football skills and listing the end results of games. Not that Arthur had googled Alfred's name. Of course he wouldn't do that.

"Well, let's stop standing in the middle of the sidewalk, wanker." Arthur commanded, releasing the American.

"Does this mean I get to see your room?!" Alfred demanded happily.

"I suppose. As long as you don't annoy Heracles." In truth, Arthur didn't even know whether the Greek boy would be there or not. But if he was, Alfred's loudness would probably annoy him.

"Pfft! I won't annoy Hercules!" Alfred said.

"Heracles." Arthur corrected, unlocking the door to his room.

"Well what's-his-name isn't even here, so I think I'm good!" Alfred said, flopping onto Arthur's bed.

"You're exhausting, you know that?" Arthur informed him with a slight smile, taking off his scarf and unzipping his jacket before going to lie on the bed next to the American.

"I've been told." The American responded, wrapping his arm around the smaller male.

"What time does your plane leave?"

"Tomorrow."

"You didn't actually answer my earlier question. Why are you here?"

"It's the twenty-third. April twenty-third." Alfred said.

"Um, all right? What does that have to do with anything?" the Brit was now even more confused. He heard Alfred sigh.

"Oh, Artie. Don't tell me you forgot your own birthday."

"… Bloody hell." He had indeed forgotten his own birthday. In his own defense, he did have finals to worry about.

The American's laughter filled the room. Arthur loved the sound of it, he had missed it so much. "You did, didn't you? That's okay. I remembered. Happy nineteenth birthday, Arthur!"

"Thank you, git."

"I love you. And… I didn't get you a present. Well, I did, but then I forgot to take it on the plane." Alfred confessed guiltily.

"You wanker. I wanted a gift." Arthur teased.

"That's weird; you didn't even know it was your birthday ten minutes ago." Alfred said, smiling at him.

"It's okay. I already have the best gift anyone could have."

"You do? What is it?" now the American was worried that his gift wouldn't compare to whatever Arthur had gotten.

"You're here, aren't you? And, we've been together no matter what's happened."

"That's true." Alfred agreed. "Even when your friends said I was stupid and not good enough. I mean, they were right, but still."

"No, they were wrong. You're perfect. What about the time when you got into a fight with Abelardo about me, hm? Not exactly a good thing."

"Don't even say his name to me."

"But you're the one who got the scholarship, so what does it matter anymore?"

"What about that time when I met your brothers?"

"_Please_ don't talk about that."

"I never got to find out about that time you peed yourself at church…"

"Moving on, git."

"Right. The time you thought that I wanted to break up with you."

"But you were talking about football. Aren't you glad you didn't break up with football?"

"Yeah. But it does make my schedule harder to come see you. If I had just not gone to school I would have more time to come visit you."

"This is the first time you've ever come to visit me."

"Exactly."

"You know what I think?" asked the Brit.

"What?" questioned Alfred, looking up at the ceiling with one arm tucked behind his head.

"I think our relationship can survive anything."

"Well yeah. Even against all odds, I'm still with you. And that's fucking great." Commented the American with a grin, leaning down and kissing the Brit before he could say anything else.


End file.
